


(Look.)

by bluefisted



Series: The Search. [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, kakashi has more problems than just ptsd, reupload because i fucked up the formatting like a fool, the works, they're both trying their best but they are so traumatized, we're getting into the MEAT of the slow burn now baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefisted/pseuds/bluefisted
Summary: The line is silent again, and Kakashi can only struggle not to beg forgiveness from the other end of the receiver. He wants to, wants to tell the man he looks to as a father what happened - at least, what he remembers. Which is nothing, except all the blood, except the echoing of a scream he's never heard before, and maybe how it feels to have so many people looking at him like he's a murderer.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Nohara Rin, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Series: The Search. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717990
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55





	(Look.)

The room is cold, dull and metallic, and reeks of disinfectant. Kakashi thinks it smells like ammonia and iron, the taste of it thick in the back of his throat. His head is swimming, wading through pools of blood as it works to untangle itself from the viscera.

His mind is still foggy but he remembers the flurry of faces and the smell of copper, the feeling of rough hands holding his upper arms in vices. He remembers a woman with a flashlight, shining the focused glare into his left eye with a grimace on her face. A man with a badge wearing a suit asking about lawyers and phone calls. Kakashi remembers uttering a name in response to an inquiry he just can't _remember_ , whispering it so quietly he barely caught it himself. The man with the badge asked if he knew the number. Kakashi can’t recall if he answered. He only knows two things - that she is dead, and that he is now standing in front of a payphone holding the receiver to his ear while it rings, trying not to snap the damn thing in half. 

There’s a sharp click. 

“Hello?”

Kakashi feels his eyes burn and his throat close, and one hand grips the phone’s handle so hard he thinks he hears it crack. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, force the few tears threatening to spill out on _his_ terms, but the left protests with a violent and vicious burn. It sends a fresh wave of guilt and nausea back over him as the iron taste in the back of his mouth returns again as a smell. It's both a newly learned scent and an old and familiar one, perhaps even one he was born recognizing. It smells like blood, but particularly _her_ blood, the blood that was all over the walls instead of in her heart, the blood he suddenly recognizes under his nails that tugs at his gut screaming _vomit, get it out_ \--

“...Ah, hello? Is anyone there?”

“Minato?” Kakashi tries, his voice cracking painfully as he forces the name out. He opens his mouth again, but clamps his teeth down on the inside of his cheek so hard that now he _really_ can taste the blood. His stomach turns with the taste and the effort not to sob, and suddenly Kakashi thinks he might really be sick here, but does his best to swallow it down. He wouldn't be an embarrassment, even in cuffs, even like this. His grip tightens on the phone, knuckles turning white with the force and effort of it as he tries not to tremble any harder than he already is. His brain bids him to keep speaking, but Rin’s blood gathers in his mouth again and he can do nothing but try to swallow it as it’s forced down his throat. 

“Yes, this is he! Who is this?”

“Me,” the boy croaks, a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks. “It’s… It’s me.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, for a few moments. Kakashi’s not sure he can take it, leaning his wiry frame against the metal body of the payphone. His left eye burns like it’s been lit on fire, and it’s all he can do not to rub at it frustratedly, tear at the stitches and scream at nothing to _stop_.

“... _Kakashi?_ What number is this, where are you calling from?” 

The young man’s fists tremble terribly, screaming he can’t recognize echoes in his head. Kakashi's thoughts race almost painfully, going back and forth between _I didn’t kill her, please, you have to believe me_ , and _oh God, I killed her, I murdered the girl you loved like a daughter, you’ll hate me_. There is a third thought, one he deems selfish, that begs to be helped. Rin’s phantom hands pull at the stitches in his brow, threatening to pop them if he forces his eyes closed any harder. 

That honeyed, soft voice speaks again. “Kakashi, do I need to come get you? Are you alright? What’s going on?" Kakashi can hear Kushina in the background, and a warbled, sad smile forces its way onto his face at the sound of her. Ah, how this would crush her. This would destroy her.

“...Um," Kakashi starts, unable to keep the tears back, now, and his voice shakes heavily for the proof. "I'm… I'm in holding at the police station. Something happened, I--" And now he finds he can't keep going, he can't say the rest out loud, can't fit tongue and teeth around the words--

"Oh, God," Minato says softly, but there's something in his voice Kakashi has heard only once before. The recognition makes the tears fall faster, and the younger boy is grateful they aren't loud. He can hear, faintly, Minato repeating the words to Kushina. Her exclamation of disbelief could have been heard across the county, an Earth-shattering, Hell-freezing _what?_ from just across the line. "Kakashi, just-- I'll grab my keys and my coat, but what _happened?_ Were you drinking, did you take something? What--"

"No, I--"

"I won't be angry, I'm only concerned-- Kushina and I are _both_ concerned, did you get hurt, I--?"

"No, please, you-- Just listen--"

"I'm coming right now, we're on our way. We'll take you home, it--"

"I can't!" Kakashi snaps, though it's more a sob than anything else. "I'm not-- I'm… Not gonna be able to come home. Not-- not for awhile." These words are soft, and full of childlike regret.

"Kakashi," Minato says very carefully, like he's afraid of something much grander than him, so out-of-character for a man of his caliber, "Please, tell me what's happened. Go slowly."

Kakashi lets himself sob freely for just a moment - quiet, and befitting of a boy his age. They wrack his frame though he makes next to no noise besides quiet wheezing. 

"...I killed her," he chokes out, "I don't know what _happened_ , I woke _up_ and--" Kakashi falls silent, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. From the other end of the line, Kushina's once-fiery declaration of _what?_ has turned into a much, much more somber question, uttered in something that sounds like muffled fear. 

_What?_

"Killed who?" The other man's voice is shockingly, terrifyingly even. The line is silent. "It's okay. You can tell me anything."

" _Her_ ," Kakashi whimpers almost pathetically, "Rin."

The line is silent again, and Kakashi can only struggle not to beg forgiveness from the other end of the receiver. He wants to, wants to tell the man he looks to as a father what happened - at least, what he remembers. Which is nothing, except all the blood, except the echoing of a scream he's never heard before, and maybe how it feels to have so many people looking at him like he's a murderer. 

Then again, Kakashi thinks, I am. So it's all earned, isn't it?

"I'm on my way, Kakashi. Can you sit tight, and be brave for me until I get there?" Minato asks, his voice steeled. He's thinking, and thinking hard, that much is plain from just the tone of his voice. 

"Yes," Kakashi whispers, nodding rapidly to no one and nothing in particular. "Um-- Can you tell Kushina--"

"We'll talk when I get there, okay? Just relax, stay with me, and I'll be there soon."

The line dies just like she did, but leaves a dial tone in its wake. Kakashi stands, shaking, holding the receiver while he speaks to ghosts. No one responds. He realizes, truly now, that he is alone. Even Obito's ghost would have nothing to do with him - he failed to protect the girl his friend loved most. At this point, if his ghost spoke, he suspects it would sound more like screaming.

\--

"Get up."

The command starts Kakashi awake, and with gently trembling hands, he tries to remember where he is.

It takes him several minutes to piece together his reality, watching in a daze as it takes form around him. He's in the back of a car, with blood under his nails and smeared over his knuckles, trying not to focus on the rapidly-worsening ache at the base of his neck blooming upward. Kakashi squints as he watches a tall figure move from the back doors of the vehicle to the trunk, popping it open to grab two separate backpacks and heaving it shut again. The other man doesn't acknowledge Kakashi as he walks away from the car. 

Then, it clicks.

...Right. That's Obito, and this was all one big waking nightmare.

Kakashi sits all the way up with a wince, now, trying to recall the more minute details of why he was laid all the way out in the back of a car belonging to a once presumably deceased friend. The answer he conjures does him no favors, gives him no other answers but, indeed, more questions. The last thing he can even really remember is… Well, it had been dark out, that much was certain, and now it’s got to be midday at least. But as he strains his mind for more, he finds nothing besides the fact that it’s painful to even try thinking that hard. Instead, he swallows around a dry throat as he musters the courage to follow after Obito. His body _hurts_ , and his mind hurts trying to even recall why, and that fact alone is enough to irritate Kakashi more than confuse him. 

There's a bag of his own tucked behind the passenger seat, and the silver-haired man snatches it up with something of an attitude as he heaves himself out of the car. The pavement rotates just slightly as one foot makes contact with it, the car-park suddenly becoming completely blinding in the sunlight and oh _God_ , Kakashi is sure he can count on one hand the number of times he's been this disoriented. He stands as straight as he can manage like this, backpack in hand as he slowly moves to sling it over his shoulder. His eyes adjust (his good one does anyway), and slowly, his mind settles. As his brain cells seem to come back to him one by one, Kakashi realizes just where he is.

It's just an apartment complex.

Not great, definitely not awful. Shockingly normal, perhaps, for Obito's apparent line of work. Shutting the door to the car and stepping forward, he realizes that for one, it's _definitely_ nicer than his own, and two, this very well could be Obito's home now. At least, maybe just one of them. It's at this thought that Kakashi stops, nearly smack in the middle of the dead silent parking lot, and tightens his grip on the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. This is Obito's _home_. Probably. And this would be the first time since then that he would see who his friend is _now_ \- what he keeps on his shelves, what movies he watches if he does at all, what he keeps in his cabinets, did he pick a color scheme? Fuck, did any of it even matter anymore?

"Get in here."

Obito's voice is just loud enough to snatch Kakashi out of his daydream, his head whipping to the left - with a wince, he's moved too fast again - and catches the disappearing figure of his friend through a threshold not far. Kakashi moves his feet, determined to make it at least far enough to find a sink and a glass before he drops, looking up to the sky only in spirit to ask, God, please don't let me look like a fool in here. 

Be fucking _normal_ , Kakashi pleads with himself, sighing through his mask as he approaches the door. It was left open for him, and as he shuts it after entering he finds all the pleading with himself in the world could not have stopped the flood of emotion.

"Make sure you lock it." 

Kakashi hears Obito's voice from another room issue the order, and blindly he does so, locking the door despite the fact that the affirmative _thunk_ of the deadbolt does his headache no favors. He slips his shoes off and takes a step forward onto the carpet, soft and weirdly unstained. Obito had been a _klutz_ last he recalled - couldn't hold a cup without fumbling it at least once, but now… Now this place he inhabits seems nearly _sterile_ , even in the warm lighting coming through the curtains. There's a table in front of the couch with next to nothing on it besides a book with no visible title, and a centerpiece that looks like it had been bought as nothing but a space-filler. 

Another step forward, and on closer inspection, the entire place is spotless. Kakashi snorts at that - years ago, Obito could've taken a wrecking ball to this place in an _hour_ , leaving it looking like a flurry of cups and magazines and trinkets came through the windows and doors. Now, though, he thinks you could dust the place for fucking _fingerprints_ and find absolutely nothing. The smile that had started to grace Kakashi's face drops at that realization. This is the house, not the home, of a ghost who is trying to stay that way. 

The top of the TV stand, the wall shelves, all of it was mostly barren of anything important, but the one thing that catches Kakashi's eye is something that sits on a shelf pinned to the wall.

It's a photo, but perhaps, not the photo he may have expected. His gut churns violently at the thought of _her_ in passing, and with the pounding in his head it nearly sends the lunch he didn't eat out of his stomach. Kakashi swallows around the feeling, manages as he fights the dizziness, and keeps his eyes locked firmly on the photo. It's Obito's grandmother - fuck, that woman raised Kakashi like her own, too, and for a while - kind and white-haired, smiling with that well-meaning squint in her eyes. She looks happy, there, dressed in finery he doesn't recognize. It's in a moment of impulse that he reaches for the photo, remembering the kind woman and her kind laugh, the time he and Obito broke into her wine and _cried_ later with drunken guilt--

"Don't touch it."

Kakashi starts, turning to look to his right, where Obito stands in the kitchen doorway. "I thought you knew better than to touch a shrine."

"Sorry," Kakashi says, "It didn't look like one." He means absolutely no insult by it, though as it comes out, he realizes his words may have needed more thought. It just is what it is; A photo, alone on a shelf, with nothing beside it. No incense, no fabric under the frame, no flowers, mementos. Nothing. Just her, alone. 

"Not to _you,_ " Obito almost hisses, turning back into the kitchen, "Not everybody makes one so fucking sentimental."

Those words sting like a stab - Kakashi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from pointing out that the one he _refers to_ was his _father's_ , and he'd be smart to keep his mouth _shut_ about it. But his tongue feels tied behind his teeth, and suddenly standing is an incredible effort, the room starts to do a fun little turn and _yeah_ , he really needs to sit down now.

Something smells good from the kitchen, comes the immediate realization after placing himself on the couch, and it smells like meat. Kakashi figures with a slowly-watering mouth that Obito's making something, something with eggs in it by the taste gathering in the back of his throat. When did he learn to cook anything? Obito could've burnt _water_ back then, and now he's in there working with God knows what. He supposes it comes with age - learning to cook, learning to keep things clean, but even to Kakashi it feels so much like a leap. A leap he didn't take _with_ Obito. For a moment, he feels as though he's a boy, a true child, sitting on the couch of a best friend who went through time without him. The thought is enough to make him giggle like a child, as well - Obito was the one who passed, and yet it's Kakashi who manages to be frozen in time.

He wonders how long he'd sat contemplating time and the entrapment of the children it does _not_ murder, when Obito sets down a bowl in front of him.

"You're gonna eat. But I want you to look at me, first."

Kakashi laughs out loud, but quietly. Eating would be fun, with the room moving something like a malevolent carnival Tilt-a-Whirl. Obito apparently finds it less funny, because he doesn't laugh. In fact, he doesn't even crack a smile, only electing to repeat what he said with more intent.

"Look at me, Kakashi."

This, too, isn't funny. They've met eyes before, in recent weeks, but never while Kakashi's been as sober as this. He can feel the twitch in his knee begging him to fidget this feeling away, he can feel the confused rumbling in his stomach pleading with him to at least _try_ some of the rice under the meat and eggs in front of him. Nothing comes of it for several moments, but his old friend is unwavering. Kakashi looks up, finally, and meets Obito's eyes.

In a manner perhaps the opposite of affectionate, Obito grabs Kakashi's jaw with one hand and leans in a little. His gaze seems focused on Kakashi's right eye, just for a second, tilting his head to the left and right before letting him go.

It feels a little too intimate.

"...Eat," Obito says, this time, without the harshness. There is the definitive lack of softness, but there is no anger, no hatred there, either. "Even if you can't keep it all down yet."

Obito's eyes are dark, and his lashes are long, save for on his right side. They're a little more sparse there, much like the brow above that eye, Kakashi notes. Said eyes are narrow, disbelieving of everything, and that look in them does not leave as he moves behind Kakashi to, apparently, take a look at the back of his skull. 

"...Hm," the huff of breath both seems irritated and thoughtful all at once. "Kakuzu really knocked your shit in, didn't he?"

"Who?" Kakashi winces, trying not to grunt as Obito harshly beckons him to lean his head forward, as if trying to get a better look at the back of his head. 

"The man that sends you pictures of yourself," Obito explains, the venom in his voice returned, "Kakuzu. One of the fucking reasons I told you to _quit fucking following me_. You're probably concussed."

"Great." Kakashi says, feeling like finishing the job by slamming his head into the coffee table.

"I told you to go home," Obito says lowly, "And what the fuck do you do. You're lucky Hidan wasn't there."

Something about that triggers a flash of memory - _oh_ , Kakashi thinks with an exhaled breath. It had been dark, and Kakashi had been determined after that first motel run-in, knowing full well if Obito didn't kill him someone else might anyway. He'd known, walking to his car and away from that hotel room a day later, that it could be _damn dangerous_ , but this was Obito, it was worth it just to see those eyes again, maybe see that smile. It was worth it to ask why, why didn't you come back, what happened to you--

You always hear someone's footsteps a little too late.

"Slammed my head against a curb," Kakashi mutters, hissing as fingers move his hair away from the cut. "I think he tried to kill me."

"He was going to," Obito says, and the venom in his voice is absolutely deadly. It isn't all hatred, though, because there's something in it that almost doesn't belong. Something like a scolding, one not so serious, as you would a child, or a friend. Friends. Which they aren't, anymore. "If I hadn't been there, he'd have blown your fucking brains out all over the concrete. I had to scare him off without him realizing who I was. Did you think you were being careful? Did you fucking think I wouldn't wait to make sure you quit following me like I _told you to?_ "

Now, Obito comes back around the couch to look Kakashi in the face. Or, perhaps he would, if Kakashi felt man enough to meet that gaze. Maybe he can't make eye contact, but he can quip back without a problem. "Sorry," he says, finally going for his food, "I've just never gone ghost-hunting before."

Obito crosses his arms, and scoffs as though someone just tried to tell him the whole 'gullible written on the ceiling' joke. He says nothing to the half-hearted, shitty joke, and focuses on the obvious instead. "I told you I'd kill you if I saw you again."

"You implied it," Kakashi says around a mouthful of rice, head down to prevent Obito from seeing his face without his mask, "You never said you would outright."

"Oh, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Kakashi, do I have to hold a gun to your forehead to get you to believe me?"

"Yes." No. Even then, Kakashi thinks, I could call your bluff in an instant. I could put the barrel in my mouth and you wouldn't pull the trigger. Your finger would ghost it, but you wouldn't pull it.

"Fucking fool," Obito whispers fiercely, turning to head back into the kitchen. "Just eat."

A shaky hand holds a pair of chopsticks, the other warming the bowl. It's _good_ food, at least, Kakashi thinks it could be if his tastebuds were working right. It's good food, not because of the flavor - well not all the way - but because of the intent. Even if the intent was just to keep a corpse off the floor.

 _Eat_ , comes Obito's echoed voice, _Even if you can't keep it all down yet_. 

Still. Had he not given a shit, Obito wouldn't have bothered with cooking. First and foremostly, had Obito not cared, Kakashi thinks he'd be on his way to the morgue by now. Or he'd be back there, splayed out like she had been once, bleeding out to a finish in the dirt under a streetlight way too yellow. Obito wouldn't have bothered with checking the wound if he wanted Kakashi to rot, and most certainly wouldn't be coming back into the room with what might be a stitch kit. The sight is enough to make Kakashi grimace.

"You wanted to play fucking Nancy Drew, here's your prize," Obito says, taking his place behind Kakashi again. "Don't look at me like you didn't think your thick ass skull got split. You got blood in my car."

"Sorry," Kakashi whispers, and this time, it's genuine. Nothing to bite back except pieces of his meal, which is slowly but surely starting to turn sour in his stomach. Shit. "...Sorry."

Obito doesn't say anything for a moment, instead starting without warning on the back of his friend's head. When Kakashi hisses at the first suture, then he speaks.

"...You're fine. It'll come out." Again, his voice is soft. Not quite comforting, but free of double-meaning. He really was fine. It really would come out. Nothing else to think on. Kakashi forces his mask back over his nose with resignation as he sets his meal down.

The stitches don't take long - it hadn't been too big of a split, apparently, just enough to require the help of a third party. Obito sighs when he's done, and sets the stitch kit on the table.

"Look at me."

Kakashi does look up, this time - he meets Obito's eyes with something tender in his own, and that seems to startle Obito just barely. Something flashes across his face that he buries immediately, again taking the younger's face in his hand to look him over. "Your eyes look fucked," he says quietly, nearly soft, hand lingering, "I can't gauge your left one, but the right pupil looks bigger than it should be."

There's a moment of silence, and Kakashi can feel his heart pick up speed in his chest. For a minute, he imagines none of it happened - Rin is fine, in the other room _alive_ , and they're just _people_. There are no men who send them pictures of themselves, and Obito doesn't have a .9mm hidden in his center console. They don't get jumped in the middle of the night, Obito doesn't look over his shoulder every two minutes. In his mind, for just a _second_ , they are just two men. Two men, who could be in love, maybe, someday. Obito's hand lingers under Kakashi's jaw, and childishly, he leans into the touch. 

Again, something flashes across Obito's face. This time, he seems to bury it violently, as if upset by the emotion. "You'll be fine," he says quickly, snatching his hand away, "Just don't fall asleep yet. I need to watch you a while. You still stand like shit, and you're still slurring."

Kakashi says nothing, instead looking back down at his food. A part of him feels guilty for not finishing it - the other part of him would feel _worse_ for vomiting it all over Obito's nice furniture. Obito seems to read his mind, because he grabs the bowl and chopsticks to take it back. "Lay down. _Don't fucking sleep_. If I have to take you to the hospital because you start seizing or something…"

He trails off as he leaves the room, and Kakashi has to stare at the patterns in the wood of the coffee table to keep the nausea at bay. The room's turning has resumed as he leans forward and pulls his mask down again, and this time he's not sure he can fight this. Oh, God, if he pukes in Obito's living room he'll _never_ live it down, if there's a God at _all_ he will _not_ let me hurl all over this house, _please_ God do not do this here and now--

Obito walks in again, stopping only for a moment to look at the other before moving at seemingly lightspeed to grab a tiny trash can from beside the TV stand, moving it under Kakashi just in time to _not_ get it all over the carpet.

Humiliation burns through Kakashi, made infinitely worse when Obito moves with a long sigh to hold his hair out of his face. "Saw you turning green. You gonna hurl every time we meet?"

"Fug off," Kakashi slurs, head halfway into the can as he empties his stomach into it. "'S gonna improve on the carpet--"

At this, Obito makes some kind of noise - it's like he chokes, coughs around it, and then struggles to clear his throat after. Had Kakashi been a bigger fool, he might have guessed that a laugh had been smothered. Did he just laugh? Over a shitty puke joke?

"Feel better?" Obito asks after Kakashi manages to breathe through sixty seconds without gagging. 

" _No_." comes the slightly dramatic answer, but one that's still true.

Obito doesn't say anything - instead, the hand in Kakashi's hair moves to let it go much slower than necessary. He doesn't linger, but it is slow, almost the way someone would pet another person. Kakashi pretends that's what's happening - Obito is petting him, running a hand through his hair, just this once.

"You'll sleep when your eyes go back to normal and you can talk right," Obito says, almost like he's giving Kakashi a time to look forward to. "Once I'm convinced you're not bleeding internally." It's said with a hint of sarcasm, but the problem is a real concern.

"Can I lay down, at least?"

"...Yeah. Lay down. Idiot." The last bit is tacked on as though Obito had nearly forgotten to say it - the first two words are lacking in venom or resentment, almost kind, and the third is spit out to accompany them in a manner not quite fitting. Kakashi says nothing to it, though, as he moves to stretch his breaking body and psyche over the length of the couch. "Just lay there. Don't move, or I'll make sure you can't." 

Kakashi does as he's told, watching Obito make his hundredth trip into the kitchen with the trash can. He doesn't move, and doesn't bother with covering his face again. Obito had seen it before, and probably would again. All he can really do is curl up pathetically on his side and ignore the throbbing at the back of his head. He forces his eyes to stay open, though, for fear of falling asleep like this - though boy, oh boy, was it an appealing idea. This place was comfortable, safe, and warm. The couch is soft, smells new, and really is tempting him to just close his eyes awhile. 

It takes great effort, but he manages to stay awake until Obito joins him in the living room again, this time with a glass and a handful of pills.

"Painkillers. Anti-nausea, something to keep the dizziness under control. Take them."

"What's the painkiller?" The younger asks, holding his hand out to receive the gift. Obito hands him the water, and dumps the pills into Kakashi's other hand.

"Vicodin. If you've never taken it, you'll probably feel a little fuzzy, weird, so--"

Vicodin, Kakashi thinks to himself as Obito speaks. Well.

"Do you have two?"

"You'll only need the one." 

"I'm asking if you have two." Kakashi says, knowing damn well he enunciated properly the first time as he dumps his fistful of mostly over-the-counter pills in his mouth. He washes them down with a swallow of water, looking back up to his friend with a flat expression. Obito is staring at him with a look he finally _can_ place - wonder. Or perhaps _wonder_ is too kind a word. Morbid curiosity is more like what he wears now, mixed with a little bit of disbelief and something almost like anger pointed in a different direction.

"...Yeah. I have two." 

"Great."

Kakashi lays back down as Obito leaves the room again, grabbing a second before handing him the TV remote. He tells the younger to keep it quiet lest he get a headache of his own, and turns again, heading back into another room where he stays a while. Kakashi keeps the TV at a whisper level, and unable to look at the screen, he focuses on the background noise. Obito pokes his head through the kitchen threshold several times, presumably checking to make sure there is a distinct lack of sleep. The painkillers _work_ , though, much like they always do - it feels good, it feels a little like floating, it feels a little less like he's sitting in his dead best friend's apartment. He can focus on the important things - the fact that Obito is alive, cooking and cleaning and doing what breathing people do and it's incredible in such a strange way, and the fact that he will always hate Itachi for this.

It had been a gesture, first. Kakashi had known Itachi since his jaunt in prison - never cellmates, but always friends of a unique sort. They often found themselves trading help for help, whether it be help in getting something from point A to point B in silence, or help in the form of a sharp ear. Kakashi had been a year or so deep into his sentence, when they met. The two boys with their heads down made for fast friends, often opening up to each other in odd ways. Stories of favorite snacks outside of the barbed wire, of friends and family left behind. Never of acts committed, but always of those they'd been committed against. Itachi leaves before Kakashi is released, though not legally; The theory goes that he'd had a friend on the inside, after vanishing from his cell overnight like a ghost. At least, so the inmates spoke. Even he never got a straight answer.

It's years later after Kakashi's own release that Itachi greets him with the gift of painkillers, and a question--

_Will you look after my little brother?_

The gesture, whatever it had initially been, turned into something else. What was once something kind became something irreparable as it got more frequent. Kakashi does favors repeatedly for a definitely dying man in a questionable line of work, and in return, is gifted prescriptions of all makes and models. Which would have been fine, if he could just manage to use them for headaches instead of devastation at the life he'd made. It would have been fine, if he could take them like a normal person, one at a time. It would have been fine if Itachi showed up with a _fucking cake_ and a loaded question instead of a new addiction and a loaded question. It would have been fine - no, preferred - if Itachi never gave them to him in the first place. With enormous bitterness, he admits to himself that he could have just thrown them out. Like many messes, this was one he got himself into. The truth is always so damn sad.

Obito walks in again, when the light outside has faded into dusk and Kakashi is high enough that Wendy Williams is making him chuckle quietly to himself. He's looked over again, told to say a tongue-twister and recite the date, and finally is given the clear to sleep alongside a blanket and pillow.

"Sleep," Obito orders, voice quiet as he half-assedly tosses said blanket over Kakashi. "You'll eat again in the morning."

\--

"...You sure you wanna move out, man? You can stay."

"This man was a friend of my father's. At least, he says he was. He moved back from Japan to help me, when he heard. Apparently no one told him until recently. I should at least _try_ to…" Kakashi trails off, staring at one of his own shirts that he has yet to put in a suitcase.

"Be nice?"

"Yeah."

Being twelve is hard, Kakashi decides as he quickly folds the shirt to put it away. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Obito isn't just throwing things in boxes - to Kakashi's chagrin, he is - but he can't find it in himself to care too much. Did it all even matter, anyway? Would this man and his wife be kind? Would they try to be his new parents? Would they be strict, how many rules would their new home have? Did they have dogs? A cat? Did they have other kids? Would they end up disliking him? Kakashi can remember the number of adults in his life that have described him as a difficult child, perhaps even occasionally violent - would they, too, find him disagreeable? Would they kick him out, if it got bad?

Obito seems to be able to _hear_ his thoughts, because there's a hand on his shoulder the size of his own and Kakashi lets out a breath he didn't think he'd been holding.

"You gonna pack those jeans, dude? They're gonna be here in like an hour," Obito says quietly, plopping down by his friend when there's no answer. "...Hey, ground control to Major Bakakashi." 

Kakashi looks over for a second, but makes no eye contact. His grip tightens on the fabric in his hands, and his brows furrow hard. "...Yeah. It's fine, I can do it."

"They're gonna love you, dude." Obito says definitively, squeezing the younger's shoulder. His tone is sincere, soft, and this time Kakashi does try, and fail, to look at Obito.

"Hey," the older boy whispers, "Look at me."

His voice is tender, softer than perhaps Kakashi has ever heard it. It forces his head and his eyes up for just a second, and with shaking hands, Kakashi reaches up to pull his mask down momentarily. He can feel the trembling in his throat, knows what's coming, and tries to brace for it by breathing through his nose. "Woah, hey," Obito whispers, squeezing Kakashi's shoulder again. "Hey, hey. What's going on up there, bro?"

Obito taps Kakashi's temple, but his hand is gently swatted away. "...I said I'm fine."

Kakashi sniffs lightly, and Obito apparently can't keep the lopsided smile off his face. The younger has only been this close to him a few times before - but it's only now that he really looks at Obito. His eyes are so beautiful, frustratingly so, wide and kind and framed by long lashes. He's got freckles dotting his nose, a scrape on his cheek from the rugburn Kakashi gave him while wrestling the other day. His hair's shaggy, starting to get in the way of those eyes, but the obstruction somehow makes them no less piercing. Obito's lips are chapped, and visibly so from all his nervous chewing, and for the first time in his life Kakashi wonders what they'd feel like pressed against his own. Would they be warm, would they be rough? 

The thought seems to be, frighteningly, mutual.

Obito's hand moves from Kakashi's shoulder to the side of his neck, his thumb under the younger's jaw, just like in the movies. Both of them aren't meeting eyes, and if they are, it's for a split second before gazes are torn back to each other's mouths. He can't help it - Kakashi leans in just barely, terrified of looking like a fool, but when Obito starts to shut his eyes and lean in, too, the fear is replaced by heart-pounding anticipation. What would he taste like? Has he ever kissed anyone before? Was he good at it? Was he bad at it? Kakashi wonders with a sudden fright if he himself will be any good at it, will be worth kissing, will be worth anything, but then--

The bedroom door opens, and in it stands the four-eleven figure of Obito's grandmother, smiling gently with a plate of what appeared to be cut up apples and some peanut butter. 

" _Obaa-chan!_ " Obito yelps defensively, clearly embarrassed, and both boys bolt away from each other as if their touches burned. He speaks quickly, almost unintelligibly rattling off something in Japanese about _knocking_ and _not having a lot of time_ and _boys only, Grandma!_ Kakashi catches enough of it, having been taught by exposure to these two and lightly by his late father. In the chaos, he fixes his mask over his nose before he can undergo the mortifying ordeal of being known.

What takes him by surprise isn't how Obito's grandmother manages to hush him in an instant with soft laughter - she's never paid his embarrassed outbursts much attention - but the way she comes over, hands the plate to Kakashi and says, "A last snack," a pause as she searches for the words in English, "For you, Kakashi-kun."

Kakashi doesn't remember the last time he'd gotten so painfully choked up. A last gift from a woman who owed him nothing somehow made him feel better and worse.

The couple arranged to pick up Kakashi arrive in a shockingly timely manner. One is massively tall, blonde, with another kind smile - the other is a short woman, with red hair all the way down her back. He thinks she looks kind of like a pepper; He also thinks that she talks a lot, as she's introducing the pair of them again. She says her name is Kushina, and her husband's name is Minato. She tells Kakashi what he expected to hear, things about being excited to meet him, things about having fun, and knowing that this is scary. Minato doesn't say much, but when he does speak, he asks a lot of questions Kakashi would feel impolite not answering. Minato asks about favorite meals, about making something when they arrive home.

They all talk in the living room, Obito's grandmother having made tea for everyone. Despite the talking, the attention all focused on him, Kakashi can't help but notice Obito in the far recliner. He laughs when he's supposed to laugh, answers with a smile when he's spoken to. But when the attention is focused solely on Kakashi, his face falls, and those pretty eyes seem watery as they stare into a cup of tea.

"We decided against switching your schools," Minato says kindly, "We didn't want to uproot your learning, and I--"

"Can I have friends over?" Kakashi asks suddenly, not minding his interruption. From the corner of his eye, Obito's head bolts up. "...I'll clean up after them as necessary." 

"Kiddo," Kushina scoffs before Minato can answer, "We'll feed _aaaall_ your little buddies and play entertainer, 'kay? Don't worry about a thing! Invite whoever you want over, yeah?"

"One of them is a girl," the younger boy says, skeptical, "Her name is Rin. Is that cool?"

Minato and Kushina swap glances, but it's Kushina that shrugs first in indifference. "Sure, long as we meet her mom," As quick as the answer comes, the subject changes with a wicked grin from the woman. "We have a pool table in the basement, too." 

"You _do?!_ " Obito interjects, sitting forward in his seat with a grin. "No way, I thought only super rich people had pool tables!"

"Oh, yeah!" Kushina says, "I got a pinball machine off of Craigslist a month or so ago. Super new. But if you don't believe me, guess you'll have to come check it out sometime." 

" _Sick!_ "

Kushina laughs, and finally, Kakashi feels the weight on his shoulders lighten just a little bit. They talk for a while, the five of them enjoying the atmosphere, but eventually the younger finds himself getting restless. They would be leaving soon. Leaving this house, this home, that Kakashi had grown so fond of. No more late nights, no more two AM videogames, no more sneaking out to walk the two minutes to a gas station. The man, Minato, oddly seems to immediately pick up on this. He makes no move to touch Kakashi, but while Kushina and Obito blabber loudly at each other, his voice is low.

"We can go, if you'd like," he says, only loud enough for Kakashi to hear him. "Are you hungry? I--"

"I ate already." Kakashi mutters, thinking about Obito and this house and these memories he feels as though he's abandoning.

"You know," Minato says with a smile, "Leaving a place is hard. In my experience, it's only ever partly because of the people and things we leave behind. The biggest part of the fear, I think, is that of leaving a piece of _yourself_ behind. Pieces of yourself, and perhaps the fear of change. I'm sure all the changes in your life, save for moving here, haven't been good ones."

Kakashi wants to bite that he knows _nothing_ about _anything_ , except somehow, this man has managed to look through him and is just staring at his soul. Somehow, this man managed to read his fears in a second, and without prompt, ease them. Normally, such an intrusion from a stranger would make him lash, but this? It's more astounding than anything.

Fucking freaky.

Minato continues, "No amount of words will make you trust us. You have been through a lot, Kakashi - and this change, moving homes again and living with two strangers acting as caretakers… I would be terrified, if I were you. I will not ask you to trust us, but I do ask that you simply give us a chance. Not as Mother and Father, but as Minato and Kushina. Your legal roommates, if it suits you."

Kakashi says nothing in response. What is there to say, to a man who just read his heart and mind all at once? No one has ever understood to such a deep level - not Obito, not his grandmother, not Rin. Or, if they had, none were able to articulate it quite so well. No one had ever been able to pinpoint his fear and soothe it all at once. If Kakashi had been weaker, or maybe a little stronger, he thinks he may have given Minato a hug.

"...I'd like to go, now." Kakashi says, the warbling in his voice acting like a filthy traitor. He does not tack on a 'please' for fear of a worse betrayal. 

Minato smiles, understanding. One hand taps Kushina's upper arm twice, and they seem to have an entire conversation in two or three glances. 

Obito and his grandmother are thanked profusely for their hospitality, and the three of them alongside Kakashi's things are escorted outside and to the car. Obito has his hands shoved in his pockets when he isn't helping, and finally, the time comes.

It isn't goodbye, Kakashi has to remind himself. He'll see Obito tomorrow at school, over Xbox Live, at lunch, probably in detention. He'll see Obito every day - he'll have a house to invite him to, a room of his own to show him. It isn't goodbye, Kakashi reminds himself as he sits in the back seat of the car, talking to Obito through an open window.

"...See you at school?" The older boy asks nervously, his eyes watering again. "Right? They said you weren't being moved, right?"

"No," Kakashi whispers, "I mean-- I mean, yeah, I'm staying. At school. Not here. They only live a few blocks away."

"Yeah," Obito laughs, but there's no humor. "So… See you tomorrow, then. I'll make sure to tell Rin, she was all worried about it."

"Yeah, thanks," he says quietly, "See you tomorrow." 

Kakashi knew he'd be alright as he could be when leaving, when it came down to it. No tears, just like he planned. He feels proud of this fact, until the window rolls up, and Obito presses his hand to it with a look Kakashi's never seen before. "Hey," the younger whispers, though the other boy can't hear him. For just a second, Kakashi puts his hand beside Obito's, pressing it to the glass just over his. "It's okay."

They pull out of the driveway, and Kakashi tries not to stare out the back window as Obito stands, and watches, until the car is out of sight.

\--

"Get up."

Kakashi wakes to a large plastic bag being set on the table, its contents smelling sweet even from the box. 

"Did you DoorDash something?" Kakashi asks groggily, attempting to sit up. Finally, the room doesn't try to sit up with him. 

"Yeah. Eat it. It's IHOP." Obito grunts, walking into the kitchen to presumably make himself something. 

"Can… Men of your career order off of DoorDash?" It's a question asked with sleep in his voice, and a question that surely made more sense in his head. "Isn't that the opposite of staying hidden?"

"You're right," Obito says flatly, bored, "Can't believe I underestimated the clearly busy man working for several three dollar tips in a row. Should've known he'd call the police for ordering hash browns - nobody in their right mind does that." 

"Point taken, dickhead."

Eating this time around is much easier, though the headache still persists. There's a paper cup filled with orange juice, and at the first sip of liquefied sugar and citrus Kakashi feels his _entire body_ give him a standing ovation. The added encouragement reignites his appetite, and by the grace of God, finishes the entire meal with no trace of nausea. Finally.

When Obito returns, he drops something on the table in front of Kakashi.

It's two stacks of banded-together hundreds, fresh-out-of-the-vault crisp.

"That's twelve thousand. Buy a car, or leave the other stack and take mine. I'll get you papers and a new plate for it. The other six thousand should cover the cost of how many fucking motels you stayed at looking for me," Obito says, mechanical, "Go home, Kakashi. I won't tell you again."

"So you're bribing me to leave you alone. After everything."

"Nothing happened. I spooked Kakuzu and spared you on a whim," Obito doesn't hesitate to hit low. "Go home."

"You're amazing," Kakashi says with a laugh, completely sarcastic, "You really are incredible. For all the times you call me a moron, you're fucking stupid, Obito. Completely fucking stupid."

"If you have something to say, spit it out."

"Kakuzu knows where I live. If you work with him and he works with anyone else, which I'm sure he does, then the minute I step back into that house I'm _dead_. This is your job, Obito. You don't think someone's waiting for me on my own goddamn couch?" Kakashi keeps a smile on his face, though it's one of disbelief instead of happiness. 

"I'll get you a different apartment, then. Or you'll find one."

"Oh _fuck you!_ " Kakashi exclaims frustratedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. His knee bounces in place, and he heaves an agitated sigh. "Obito. I spent years wondering if--"

"You shouldn't have." His eyes are cold as steel, devoid of emotion. If he feels anything about this, Kakashi can't tell. "You should have left me the hell alone, Kakashi. You made this choice."

It's all infuriating. 

"...Is this because of her?" He asks quietly, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He knows better than to ask, in truth, but the question has been burning in the back of his mind. "Is it because of R--"

Obito sucks in an audible breath, and now, he starts shaking. "Don't speak her goddamn name. I'm warning you."

"Did you even--"

" _I know what fucking happened!_ " Obito yells, the emotion he was working to hide finally cracking open. "He fucking showed me what happened! I'm not _stupid_ , Kakashi! You had a fucking _knife_ in your hand when he walked me in there! You stabbed her so many fucking times you passed out!"

"Stop," Kakashi says, feeling his hands start to tremble alongside Obito's. "I get it. I get it."

"The _fuck_ you do!" He's pissed. Kakashi doesn't need to see his eyes to know they're on fire. "Do you _realize_ how I found her? Do you? Her jaw was broken in six fucking places, she had four cracked ribs! She--" Obito's voice cracks, and it cracks hard. "She…"

" _Stop,_ " Kakashi begs, feeling the blood begin to seep through the gaps in his fingers. He feels the skin under his nails, and the clang of the blade hitting the nonexistent tile. "Please."

He's too busy focusing on the smell of ammonia and iron to go over what Obito said in his anger. He doesn't focus on the fact that Obito had seen it himself, he doesn't focus on the fact that someone else had apparently _shown_ him the scene. He doesn't, he _can't_ focus on the plethora of implications, because he can see the lower half of Rin's body peeking out from the kitchen doorway. Both men hold themselves silently in their grief for a moment, before Obito speaks again, voice steeled and flat.

"I have work. Stay in the house. If you leave you could fuck everything up." The other moves to grab a backpack by the door, and exits without another word. He'd said what he'd said. Reparations, or maybe lack thereof, would come later.

Kakashi can do nothing but sit with Rin's corpse, watching as the blood seeps into the carpet and down, down, down. The walls are red, the carpet is drenched. Kakashi's new sweater is drenched. There's sand in his mouth, and flesh in his stomach. It tastes sour, like bad meat, like iron, like her. The room smells like blood, like her. It's everywhere.

Kakashi isn't sure if it will ever wash off.

\--

Obito comes home long after the sun has set. He's silent when he opens the door, but it still alerts a dozing Kakashi. He'd fallen asleep at some point, apparently, one leg stretched over the couch and an arm draped over his stomach. While alerted, slowly coming around in the dark of the apartment, Kakashi keeps his eyes shut. He'd spare himself and Obito the pissing match, if he can manage it, and it seems to work until his old friend's footsteps get closer.

"You awake?" The question is quiet, not meant to be heard by someone truly asleep. There's a light scoff and a mutter of _figured_ , but… Obito doesn't stop speaking.

"I hate you," he whispers, and Kakashi's heart wrenches so hard in his chest he worries the expression it forces out is visible. "I don't know what the _fuck_ came over you that day, why you fucking," Obito's voice is more emotional than he's heard it since they found each other again, and the task of holding it together is slowly becoming insurmountable. "I don't know who you are anymore. You don't even know me, now. But I guess I'm fucking stuck with you, huh, Bakakashi?"

Don't fucking cry.

Don't fucking cry.

"...I can't forgive you. Not for that, not for her," he's laying it out to someone he thinks isn't even listening. How like him. "But if you don't talk about it, I won't either. Just don't fucking mention her, Kakashi. I can't listen to that shit. Just learn to shut up, and leave shit alone. I don't _want_ to--"

Kakashi shifts, unsure that he can keep a straight face much longer, and finally Obito speaks in a voice meant to wake him, even if partially.

"Hey. We leave tomorrow."

Kakashi opens his eyes, feigning exhaustion, but not confusion. "Uh--"

"Go back to bed. But we're up in a few hours."

Okay, Kakashi thinks as Obito walks into a blackened hallway, okay. 

Okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love comments, dying, and being dead <:)


End file.
